‘I bloody do, that’s why I don’t get what you see in me! Girls like Nina—’ I reply, breath tight in my chest and beginning to feel overwhelmed. Distraught, even.
‘Who is this Nina who wears matching hosiery?’
‘Be serious,’ I reply through a reluctant laugh, even as tears shake on my eyelids.
‘No. Tell me, who is this paragon so sensibly clad?’
‘The hostie, a member of the cabin crew.’ I point vaguely along the aisle, though she’s no longer in sight. ‘The chick who just filled my glass! Girls like her are the human equivalent of thoroughbreds—women with pedigrees! I’m more—’
We answer simultaneously.
‘A mad poodle?’
‘Total mutt!’
‘I told you you’d suffer drinking champagne.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Though I’ve never known Dom to induce delirium.’ He takes the glass from my hand, setting it down and taking my hands palm to palm, encircling them in his much larger ones. Just then it occurs to me, just as he is the master of non-expression, he does, when the mood takes him, wear his passions quite clearly on his sleeve as the corner of his mouth curls, an expression of adoration kindling in his gaze.
‘If I were to indulge your alcohol induced morbidity, which I’m not, I might tell you women like Nina are much like wine.’
‘Because,’ I add haltingly, having heard this joke before and not at all impressed with its current use. ‘They get better with age?’ So not making me feel better, btw.
‘No, because they’re available in bars and restaurants everywhere.’
I laugh, despite myself, his mouth curling further and mirroring mine, before his countenance returns to mockingly stern.
‘And by that, I mean commonplace. But if I were to indulge you, I’d tell you you’re a completely unaffected beauty, who somehow never manages to see the gazes of men following her. I’d tell you you’ve a lightness of heart that’s infectious, that when you’ve your colours flying and you’re all deliciously pink and discomforted—yes, just like now—I desire you like nothing else. In fact, you’re quite like no one I’ve ever known. But I’m not saying any of those things simply to make you feel better, even though they’re true, because I’m not going to indulge you, you see. What I will say, sweetheart, is that what I see in you is my future.’
Slipping my hands from between his, I throw my arms around him as best as I can clasped into my seatbelt, and squeeze the living hell out of him.
